


Warning Labels

by Chekhov



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: BDSM, BDSM Scene, M/M, Petplay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-18
Updated: 2014-06-18
Packaged: 2018-02-05 03:48:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,217
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1804195
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chekhov/pseuds/Chekhov
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Do you want to have sex?” was a question Remus met with a particularly unimpressed stare and the flip of his book’s page.<br/>“I don’t quite think our styles will match,” he said. <br/>“Rem, come on,” Sirius had whined. “This isn’t Hufflepuff versus Slytherin.I’ll go slow, be gentle.”<br/>He had no idea why he was so lucky, but that night Remus had for some reason decided to be truthful with him and deadpanned, quite to Sirius’ astonishment: “Yes, that is precisely the problem.”<br/>***<br/>Warnings: BDSM, intercourse, petplay and some name-calling.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Warning Labels

“Now, let’s get one thing straight,” Sirius says, leaning in dangerously close. Dangerously close, in this case, meant closer than the one foot space agreement Remus had gone over only this morning. “I’m not,” he finishes, and gives a lopsided grin which is, probably, supposed to be attractive to someone.

“I am aware,” Remus says, and reaches into his bag. 

“A-were?” Sirius asks, leaning dangerously close-er. “A were wo--?”

He doesn’t get to finish his stupid joke. Remus has already shoved the ball gag into his mouth and clipped it shut amid the back of the boy’s tangled dark hair. In the same timespan, he reaches his leg forward, hooks it with the back of the other’s knee, and yanks with all the precision of a ballet dancer. Grabs the other’s shirt collar in one hand – and the dark, leather studded collar in the other. 

“A werewolf,” he says, smiling down at the boy hanging from his grip. “Yes.”

 

***

 

Have you ever met someone who needed a warning label?

Muggles have a knack for those. They have labels for everything. Caution! Hot beverage. Warning! Risk of electrocution. Attention! Dangerous dog. 

What at first appears to be a mildly annoying hobby becomes increasingly necessary when you run into issues which might have been entirely preventable had a label been present. 

Namely: DANGER! Kinky werewolf.

“Sirius, if you do not stop narrating this instant I am putting that ballgag back in,” Remus grumbles, and yanks extra-hard on the ropes he is tying against Sirius’ back. 

“Yes sir,” Sirius says, and shudders from the sound of the word in his mouth. It fizzles with a strange kind of excitement that makes his stomach jump. He is the exact form of politeness – back straight, arms back, legs folded neatly under him. Not that he has a choice of posture, of course. The ropes criss-crossing on his chest in a railroad of twine make certain of it. They extend back into his arms, digging into the curve of his elbow if he so much as tries to relax his spine. His hands are fisted, maybe from strain, maybe from excitement. There’s a wind of rope around the base of his cock, and it reaches upwards, until it grabs the D-ring of his aforementioned collar. If he so much as tries to lift his chin from the resentful half-bow it’s in, his cock gets an uncomfortable tug. He stares at the floor instead, listening to Remus finish up his work.

Remus prefers to work with his hands. Sometimes the wand comes out – his actual wand, that is – and some technical magic happens. But Mister Lupin is a firm believer that true magic happens when all of this ropework is done with his own fingers. 

Sirius can’t bring himself to disagree. Having to sit still while the whole thing is brought from start to finish is one of the hottest tortures he has to endure. And as of late, he endures it fairly often. As often as he can, which means they make time between classes, after classes, after hours… 

“You’re a bit rough today, love,” he says when Remus pulls the rope through his victim’s legs and slides it between his ass cheeks, creating a pleasurable warm sting. A second sting follows the first when Remus’ hand comes down against Sirius’ ass harshly. “Sir,” Sirius self-corrects. “You’re a bit… rough today, sir.”

“You disobeyed the rule of the day,” Remus replies, and yanks against the ropes hard enough to bring Sirius’ pelvis off of the ground a bit before tying them to the knot near his immobilized wrists. “One foot rule.”

“I can’t go a whole day without touching you,” Sirius whines, and then instantly doesn’t regret it when Remus grabs a handful of his hair and wrenches his head – and cock – up. 

“Can you go a whole hour without touching anything else?” he asks a tad too sweetly. 

Sirius swallows his words, but a whine escapes through his teeth. “I’m sorry,” he chokes out. 

“Bet you are.” His tormentor places a deceivingly gentle kiss against his cheek. “Now that you can probably guess what I’m going to do with you. Namely, nothing.”

“No, please,” Sirius moans, cock twitching. “D-d-don’t leave… I’ll be good…”

“I’m sure you will be,” Remus agrees and lets go, letting Sirius’ head drop again. “After an hour. And then, when I come back, we can have another talk about what ‘rules’ mean.” He stands up. His boot heels click on their way towards the door. Sirius watches him from under his uncut bangs, eyes pleading. He gives another whine.

“Be a good dog,” Remus bids on his way out before flicking his wand to suffocate the lights burning on the wall. A second later, the lock clicks shut behind him. Sirius remains on the floor, horrified at the prospect of how slowly time will pass, and at the same time undeniably and ridiculously turned on. 

 

***

 

It might not have come as a surprise to him that Remus had some repressed emotions buried underneath that cuddly, warm exterior of his. He had figured there was a darkness there, a possessive streak, perhaps, waiting to pounce. What he didn’t realize, as their secret relationship spiraled sexually out of control, was how extremely wrong he was in his Sherlockian deductions.

“Do you want to have sex?” was a question Remus met with a particularly unimpressed stare and the flip of his book’s page.

“I don’t quite think our styles will match,” he said. 

“Rem, come on,” Sirius had whined. “This isn’t Hufflepuff versus Slytherin.” (When in fact it might have turned out to be just that, in the long run.) “I’ll go slow, be gentle.”

He had no idea why he was so lucky, but that night Remus had for some reason decided to be truthful with him and deadpanned, quite to Sirius’ astonishment: “Yes, that is precisely the problem.”

The next night, while Peter was out being James’ wing-man (antler-man…?), Sirius had arrived at Remus’ bedside with a roll of rope. The boy had blushed a bit, inspected it, and reached under his pillow to pull out a black leather studded collar. 

That was the night Sirius broke his own record for the fastest erection ever formed. 

It had been a steady, ridiculously intense spiral ever since.

Apparently, Remus read erotica – A LOT. Earlier, when he had finished off with most childrens, fantasy and magic-theory books, he delved into the adults-only section for some light reading. For some reason, the library let him enter. Who knows? Maybe it saw a kind of untapped potential. Maybe the library endorses that sort of thing. Sirius didn’t know. All he knew was that Remus quickly began to acquire skills he had no one to test on. Until, that is, their whole relationship thing went down. 

And suddenly, up. 

 

***

 

He is sweating and breathless by the time the footsteps arrive at the door again. He doesn’t quite know if it is Remus – he has lost track of time. Also, he has leaned into the nearby desk to rest and then fallen face-first into the floor and is now quite unable to correct his position of ass-up-in-the-air. Quite possibly, it isn’t Remus, and someone else is about to walk in on him presenting himself and everything else he had to his name in the honor of his unhelped erection. The idea makes him horny, but terrified, so despite what he knows is coming, he can’t quite recall being so happy to hear Remus’ displeased tongue clicking in rhythm with his approach. 

“Your didn’t sit still, dog,” the werewolf scolds, and reaches down to test the tautness of the ropes with one hand. Sirius whines eagerly into the floor against his tiny puddle of drool that has formed within the last few minutes. Words are a bit too complicated now. 

Remus sets his bookbag down on the table and then reaches down to flip Sirius onto his back with surprising ease. He crouches between the boy’s legs and slides a finger slowly up the undershaft of his cock. 

“This is just about ready,” he says, and then looks back up at his glorified pet. “Well then, what have you got to say for yourself?”

“Pleasefuckme,” Sirius moans immediately, the words having been the only thing spinning in his head for the past 60 minutes. “Please please please fuck me, fuck… f-f-f…ah…” He stops his speech to interrupt it with a pathetic whine and the twitch of his hips when Remus presses him back down into the ground despite his attempts to jerk up into the air. 

“No, not yet,” he says. “Not until you tell me the lesson you learned.”

Sirius’s mind struggles away from the aroused daze. All he knows was that he wants Remus to ride him like he usually does, harshly and without care for his own comfort. The incredibly casual use of his tortured body is just about the only thing he craves anymore. Even worse is the fact that he knows he had to apologize for something he has done wrong – why has he ever thought to disobey again? It always warranted these types of punishments, and he is always sorry.

“S-s-sorry…” he chokes out. “Please… I’m s-sorry… didn’t mean to…”

“Sirius,” Remus grumbles, and grabs the other’s knee, wrenching him to the side and smacking his ass again. “Focus, you animal. This is all about your level of restraint. Who makes the rules?”

“You do,” Sirius gasps, drool sliding down the side of his chin. 

“And who follows the rules?”

“I do…” he whines. “Th-the dog.”

“That’s right,” Remus says with a satisfied smile. “The master makes the rules and the dog follows the rules. Did you follow my order, dog? Were you a good boy?”

Sirius closes his eyes, hips shaking with the urge to thrust. “I wasn’t… wasn’t a good dog…”

“That’s right,” Remus agrees, and unzips his pants. The sound of the purring metal is enough to bring Sirius into a state of near frenzy – he whines again, arching his back despite the burn of the restraints on his skin, and moans eagerly as his master removes the school uniform and pushes his robes up and aside. There is a moment of pause – Remus hovers over him, propped on one hand while the other works a finger somewhere out of sight, where Sirius isn’t allowed to be yet. 

“I’ll be a good dog,” he whispers, face burning with the embarrassment of his nickname. “I’ll be a good boy… please…”

“I know you will be,” Remus replies, and suddenly Sirius feels the warmth of the other’s body against the tip of his cock, right before the werewolf grasps the tip and guides it inside himself, slowly, agonizingly, until the warmth and tightness of his muscles are all Sirius can feel. 

“F-f-f…” Sirius’s whole body shakes. “Fuck… p-p-please…”

“That’s my good boy,” Remus purrs, his voice slightly strained. “Now you can fuck.”

With a tentative whine, Sirius thrusts up, and then regretfully lowered his hips, drawing himself out halfway, feeling the tug of the other’s body unwilling to let him go. Then, gaining more confidence, he thrusts back in again, urged on by the sound of Remus’ own soft moan.

“Good dog,” the wolf whispers and then yanks the rope off of the D-ring, releasing the tension. Almost right away, he grasps the front of the black hair and shoves his head back, holding him in place as he slides down onto his full length, controlling the motion. “That’s it, nice and slow, like I taught you…”

Sirius feels his mind losing its grip as the rest of his body surrenders. The maintained, purposeful timing of each meeting of their bodies isn’t his to act on. He is being contained to his purpose, used in to the best of his potential. His cock twitches again, this time inside the hot grip of Remus’ ass. The other slides him up and out, and then back in, each tug of the erection harder, deeper than the last. He rides him faster now, his fingers tightening in Sirius’ hair, his swearwords getting more breathless. Sirius’ repeated thrusts into the other’s body in a desperate, begging manner are making the sound of slaps against the skin of Remus’ ass, and becoming more a more rapid as his desperation increases. 

“Remember your lesson,” Remus gasps, and moves his hand from the other’s hair, grabbing his collar instead. “Repeat it.”

“Only t-t-touch… when I’m allowed…” Sirius pants. “Only when master says…”

“Good dog,” Remus breathes, and sinks down into his cock again, and again, and again until Sirius practically howls with pleasure, cumming into the warm confines of the other’s body. Remus’ own cum makes it as far as his chest, landing there as an odd mark of possession of his favorite fuck toy. 

 

***

 

Afterwards, they sit in silence, Sirius’ head rested against Remus’ shoulder while the other rubs out the red marks on his wrists. 

“Had enough of me yet?” the werewolf finally asks, but he is still smiling. The fear that once punctuated that question after every one of their sessions is gone, replaced with mild amusement. 

Because Sirius always answers the same thing:

“Weee,” he says tiredly. “Let’s do it again…”


End file.
